100 Words / Prompt: Sleek
How I miss those times at work, when each day we would be off like thoroughbreds and there was always a down-the-stretch, down-the-stretch, down-the-stretch to a thundering finish. Take a breath and then work, work, without enough hours in the day, or enough bees in the hive and it was glorious. I was polished and sleek then, being valued and giving value; sleeping sans dreams with worry as tonic.
Now my days are suddenly idle, and I feel myself growing soft and indistinct. Try as I might (yet I don’t, or can’t) I sputter and stall, fading into mediocrity.